


Hush

by Gumilandia



Series: It was meant to be [1]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: ALL THE GOOD STUFF, Feels, Fluff, Late night talks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 19:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumilandia/pseuds/Gumilandia
Summary: He was so happy. As if a giant weight lifted from his heart, as if every wall he built up was broken down. It felt good. He felt good. He felt free.





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't live without these two it seems ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Also, Koa is a big, half hawaiian, tattooed man. Also nr2, this is unbeta’d :’3

                The ship was quiet, save for rhythmical humming of the engine in stand-by mode. Start up, and slow down to almost a halt. Start up… slow down. Start up… slow down. Kekoa caught himself breathing along with the rhythm, gently clenching and unclenching his fingers on the soft body in his arms.

                He couldn’t sleep. Yet another night where Johnny slept soundly, and he would catch maybe two hours of shut-eye. It wouldn’t irritate him as much if he could nap during the waking hours, but no, of course he couldn’t fall asleep, even on Kinzie’s extremely comfy pillow. Too much stuff going on, too much at stake. Too many emotions yanking him from one side to another and not enough time to sort through them.

                Johnny stirred when Kekoa’s fingers pressed a little too hard on his skin. He didn’t wake up though, and Koa was grateful for it. As much as he loved seeing Johnny’s eyes free of those dumb sunglasses, his relaxed, sleeping face did even more for calming his nerves.

                God damn it, Johnny fucking Gat. Right in front of him. Sleeping, breathing evenly. Warm. _Alive_. He still had trouble believing it. It wasn’t a simulation, it wasn’t a dream. He was there, in his arms, and he will be, forever, if Koa has anything to say about it.

                He remembered the first time they met. How deep in shit he was. How removed from reality he felt. How he didn’t really care if he lived or died. Remembered the face Johnny made when he finally spoke after such a long time. The fights he got into. The fights Johnny got into. The fights they both got into after having one too many shots. The long nights spent on talking and drinking.

                The day Aisha died. How broken Johnny was. How he tried not to show it, yet broke down during one such late night talk. How Koa broke down along with him. How awful they both looked in the morning.

                How the next few years were a blur. How they got drunk, just before that damn bank robbery, and confessed their lives had pretty much no point without the other.

                How Johnny died.

                Kekoa sighed deeply, his stomach and throat doing the _thing_ they always did when he thought about that. It was long ago. It was not true, and yet he still felt the guilt. The morbid realization that Johnny is _not_ coming back. That he’s not coming back, because _Koa left him to die_.

                He pulled Johnny closer, burying his face in black hair, and slowly breathed in. He was here. Johnny was here. Not on a plane, not in a grave, but here, in his bed. He repeated it like a mantra, over and over again until he could feel his throat loosen up, his lungs fill with air, familiar smell filling his nostrils.

                He remembered the little beach he found in Steelport. Hell, Steelport may have been a shithole, but it wasn’t A Shithole like Stilwater. The sand was soft, the noise from the streets muffled by quiet waves, the air seemed clean, occasional gust of wind carrying water mist over his face and hair. It was everything he needed back then. Everything he couldn’t get during those moments of pure rage and lust for vengeance, of drugged up visions and drunken sex he barely remembered.

                It was calm. He was calm.

                And then Zinyak showed up, and everything went to hell again, but Johnny was alive. Barely holding it together, but alive. And Koa hugged him, with all his might, slime and nakedness forgotten. He was so happy. As if a giant weight lifted from his heart, as if every wall he built up was broken down. It felt good. He felt good. He felt free.

                Johnny’s face pressed deeper into his chest.

                “Hey babe,” Johnny muttered and looked up at his lover with one eye, “can’t sleep?”

                Kekoa laughed quietly under his breath. “Yeah, just… Thinking.”

                “Thinking, huh? Well don’t get too used to it.” Johnny smiled at Kekoa rolling his eyes. “No, but seriously, you should probably force your mind to rest. You’ve been getting paler and paler.”

                “Yeah, if it only was that easy.”

                “I mean, I could tell you a bedtime story, but it’d probably be too exciting for you to handle,” Johnny bragged.

                “Oh really? You mean like the last one about an eight inch cucumber looking for his two long lost tomato friends?”

                “Come on, that was pure genius.” They both snickered at how stupid all that sounded.

                Koa missed that. Those idiotic stories they would think up, how hilarious they seemed when they were stoned. How they tried not to laugh when one of them made a reference during an Important Moment™. It was finally back. He took a deep breath and looked up for a second.

                “Hey,” Johnny put a hand on his jaw, “you know I’m still here, right? And that I always will be?” Kekoa flashed him one of those loving smiles Johnny held onto for dear life. He couldn’t stop himself from gently pressing his lips against the fuller, darker ones.

                “I know, Johnny,” Kekoa whispered. “I know.”


End file.
